Hogwarts a History
by Liebling
Summary: ‘But he was still immature and she would always be a little girl to him. For when you grow up with someone . . . they are forever young in your eyes.’ Ron/Hermione. Lovely in an odd way. :-)


They always said that she was timeless. But he never thought so.  
  
She was stunning, of course, but timeless was reserved for Quidditch moves, and good friends, and the comfort of chocolate frogs.  
  
Her knotty brown hair was always arranged in a messy bun at the top of her head, and she always took a quirky liking to her scarlet and gold tie. She read. For fun. Which always annoyed the redhead who insisted that reading was "pointless."  
  
But Hogwarts a History was her friend. And sometimes, just sometimes, it was a better friend than he could ever be.  
  
For although it did not talk, or listen, or even feel it did not hurt her. It did not say rude things about her messy hair, or 'you're just a brain...and that's all you'll ever be.' It could not make her cry lonely tears.  
  
And even though it was not particularly nice enjoying a book's company, you weren't hurt that way.  
  
But some small part of her took notice of the boy and liked him anyway.  
  
Even if he was an awful prat.  
  
He was rude and uncouth but he was "her" awful prat.  
  
However, Hogwarts a History couldn't smile at her with that goofy grin. It couldn't split a chocolate frog in half and give her the bigger half. And it couldn't beg to cheat off of her Potion's test. It also didn't have messy carrot-cake colored hair that blew in the wind.  
  
He was not so timeless. He was just typical and boyish with a roguish grin on his reddening face. He blushed, and he did awful in school. The boy told nasty jokes with the other boys, and even took to drinking butterbeer in the boys' lavatories.  
  
He was just such a -boy.- He was so competitive that it annoyed her. He just refused to lose.  
  
And half of her, just half, respected that. Even if it was awfully ridiculous.  
  
She had porcelain hands that were petite and the color of white cake. But her fingernails were very dirty from all of that digging for flobberworms in Care of Magical Creatures. She didn't mine. She shrugged and bit at her nails.  
  
She never did make sense.  
  
One day he picked up her copy of Hogwarts a History and began tossing it about the common room.  
  
"Put that down," she hissed. "I'm doing homework."  
  
"When are you not doing homework?" He questioned. "Come and get it."  
  
"I won't play stupid games with you Ron*ald*," she said loudly. "So give it then."  
  
He tossed the book and caught it in his hands then he began jaunting about the common room with it in hand. She jumped out of her chair and began following him, he sped up, so did she. After minutes of chaos she kicked him, hard, in the shins.  
  
"Owwww," he yelled throwing the book on the rugged carpet.  
  
"Thanks," she smiled, picking the book up.  
  
She was so touchy about that book that he wondered about her sanity sometimes. And she always smelled of old books, too.  
  
Ancient books from the seventeenth century. And she also smelled vaguely of cherry gum, but only on weekends. For gum was not allowed in class.  
  
The young girl always understood him for he was simple and not very complex. If possible, he was the stupidest person she'd ever met. Well, it was a contest between him and Rita Skeeter. She took a liking to him though that was different from her liking to the ebony haired boy.  
  
This liking was like loud, booming fireworks...only not so loud. It was the subtle touching of shoulders in the corridors, the sarcastic remarks, the brief eye contact.  
  
And sometimes, it was even the loud rows.  
  
"Why'd you have to turn Harry's Firebolt to McGonagall, eh? Just dying to see him miserable, huh?" He said as he paced the common room, annoyed.  
  
She looked as though she had been slapped "--I wouldn't---how could you."  
  
He glared.  
  
She glared back.  
  
Everything about him was special, even if it was annoying. The way his nostrils flared when he was mad, the way he naturally protected his little sister. Sometimes, even the way he ate his toast, around the crust first.  
  
He was an odd specimen. But he was interesting.  
  
He noticed things about her too. Her small, neat, cursive and the loopy 'M's' she penned, her purple inkwell and the way she stomped her foot when she was angry. Her routine of putting far too much butter on her toast so it became soggy.  
  
She was odd too. But not timeless. Not really.  
  
Right away he realized that he would quite easily give his life for her. And there wasn't even much debate about it. It just--was. And always would be so. Even though the prospect of dying scared him, he would easily do it for her.  
  
Because he was just so sure the prospect of dying scared her too. And the prospect of her dying seemed to scare him as well.  
  
People around them found their feelings for each other complex. Ones mixed of friendship and more. But it really wasn't so. It was so simple it almost hit them in the face.  
  
Almost. But not quite.  
  
Next to Hogwarts a History...he was her favorite thing.  
  
While in a relationship: "Look," he said in an overly condescending manner, "you know I care about you-" he rolled his eyes "-why must I say it?"   
  
"Because!" She said loudly. "I want to hear it," she folded her arms over her chest.  
  
Sometimes, he had to do things just because she said so.  
  
And sometimes, she did things just because she thought he wanted it as so.  
  
They went through tough times, and she always had her Hogwarts a History...and in an odd way, she always had him too.  
  
When rows would break out she'd storm off to the library and he'd storm off to the dormitory.  
  
She was self-righteous, he was livid. But eventually, they'd make up even if it did take hours...or days.  
  
For Hogwarts a History got awfully boring after a while.  
  
They grew up. And that too was subtle. It was the subtle change. But he was still immature and she would always be a little girl to him. For when you grow up with someone...they are forever young in your eyes.  
  
And what do you give a young lady for Christmas?  
  
A new copy of Hogwarts a History of course! His Mother wrapped it for him; in magenta tissue paper and ebony tape a big orange bow on top.  
  
He gave it to her and she opened it carefully.  
  
"Hogwarts a History," she smiled as she skimmed through it.  
  
"You know..." he said and then got cut off by her nodding, urging him on. "--yours is looking quite old."  
  
"It's timeless," she said. "Timeless things last for always."  
  
And even though he loathed saying it to her, and even though it was so very not--him. He said it, because he knew it was what she wanted.  
  
"You're timeless," he muttered.  
  
She shrugged and bit on her dirty fingernails. "Okay, Ron."  
  
"Okay then," he said as he smiled.  
  
~*~  
  
La Fin. 


End file.
